the.applied.process.

wit. honesty. everyday ramblings.

Tag: Phoenix

17.11.2011

Belong.

“Let me see who you are, don’t try to hide the world that you belong. Let me see who you are, you’re better off where you started from.”

I self medicate. Yes, my go-to cure to my daily anxiety episodes is alcohol. I don’t expect to be understood, we all have our poisons. I do, however, expect not to be judged, because I rarely do so in return.

Tuesday I woke up sober. I was still a bit off from the mental state I was in the prior night. As usual, I felt embarrassed, confused, and stupid. A kiss or ten from my boyfriend helped it go away momentarily. I started to feel better and after going through my usual morning routine, I decided to bike to work.

I jumped on Bat Wing, the nickname ‘Nickle’ has donned for my bicycle, set google music on my phone, and started my morning commute. The weather was perfect. Not too hot, not too cold. An appropriate breeze kept my body temperature at a comfortable point where I wasn’t sweating nor was I cold. I took on the Williamsburg bridge head first and just as I started to feel the burn of the incline on my thighs, Madonna’s “I Love New York” started serenading my eardrums. I went on a state of trance that was only augmented by the fact that the Manhattan skyline looked as beautiful as it’s ever looked under the early November sunlight. “What lactic acid!?” I thought as I kept pedaling. I reached the top of the bridge in a record time and the cruised downhill enjoying some other Madonna hymn until I arrived at my destination.

The day was slow, as it usually is on a Tuesday. I took the time to call my dad and talk to him about my medication and the side effects I’ve been experiencing. Being one who does not believe in over-prescribing or excessively invasive antidotes, he suggested I stop and continue with the rest of the less sever treatment. To be honest, I didn’t know what to do. A part of me wanted to run to the nearest bar and have a cocktail, but another part was glad to be going through such a challenging experience and somewhat succeeding, despite being a mental wreck. I also wanted to continue having ‘Nickle’s’ support because I knew that in the end it would be good for him too.

That night, we had plans to go to Solas for some bar tending event. My boyfriend, however, suggested we skip it since I wasn’t suppose to drink, and instead we go for a quite night. Again, despite craving the sweet numbness alcohol brings, I concluded that if I’d already been a week without drinking (as heavily as I normally do), I could do it one more day. After work, we met at the bottom of the Williamsburg bridge, and biked back together.

Right before getting home, we made a pit stop at a small grocery shop and purchased the necessary ingredients for a home cooked meal. The menu: spinach farfalle with a potpourri of mushrooms and some olive oil, and a salad with a pre-bought balsamic vinaigrette.  No wine. Dinner was followed by Paris is Burning, a documentary about a group of African American and Latino gay men who are part of the late 80’s ball culture in New York City. It was entertaining, inspirational, and educational. I made it through the whole movie without my customary mini doze off and we went to bed promptly after, completely sober.

Wednesday morning I woke up sober, again, but for the last time in a while. I rushed to work because I had a long day ahead. My new boss, ‘BoGo’, who replaced ‘The Cock of the North’, emailed me early morning saying she was running a bit late because she was moving out of her old office and bringing some stuff we “needed” over. I honestly didn’t care, she’s not much help anyway.

**Disclaimer: When I first started this blog I said I wasn’t going to talk shit about people and I was just going to be honest. Brutally honest, that is. I feel like I’ve grown soft. This morning, I’ve been in a very odd mood. I had a very severe and long anxiety moment last night and I am not feeling like I’ve been recently. The old, more caustic me has resurfaced and I’m happy to let him parade around for a second. That being said, I will be brash and unapologetic, and let myself write as I see things trying to remove the filters I’ve been developing lately.**

Back to the topic. I was at work planning for the night’s event with still a very long list of to-do’s. I started early, and started hard. I emailed ‘The Cock of the North’ the night before asking for some guidance in this, my first event completely without his presence. He, of course, came to my aid thoroughly. I was ready for war and I had my armor and my small battalion of three interns (the good, the bad, and the useless) with me. The list of chores was slowly but surely getting accomplished. My dear ‘BoGo’ showed up an hour and a half before the event was to start with a few unnecessary items she deemed important enough to go get from her old office earlier that day instead of helping out. To be honest, I truly believe she is not as competent as she presented herself to be before getting the job, and thus chooses “flight” over “fight” when overwhelmed. More examples to support my allegations will follow in this and the next entries.

I politely acknowledged her presence, but did not take the time to make her feel like I was glad she was there. One of the things I adored about working for ‘The Cock of the North’ was that he had no qualms with doing whatever was necessary to get the job done, from sweeping the floors, to more complex tasks, he did it all, and I respect that. Furthermore, today I rediscovered how hard it is to work for someone you don’t respect.

The event ended up being a success. A lot of familiar faces turned up. Sadly, ‘Nickle’ was stuck in traffic and could not make it, but a few of his friends did, and they congratulated me on my very first soiree sans ‘The Cock of the North’. I felt like all my blood and sweat were worth it.

We left the event a bit after close and I walked with ‘Jose Maria’, ‘The Lady of Derbishire’, ‘Occhio’, and ‘Martha’ (one of ‘Nickle’s’ friends) to Tartinery on Spring and Mulberry. I was texting with my lover about him meeting us there after he dropped off the keys to my place at The Abbey so that my dear friend ‘Geordie-Mo’, who was arriving in to town from London, could pick them up, drop his bags, and meet us all out and about. I am not quite certain when or where things took a turn, but ‘Nickle’ ended up not coming to dinner. Instead, he said he’d meet us after for drinks.

After dinner, we opted to walk to Phoenix because the plan was to meet ‘Geordie-Mo’ at “The Church” once he freshened up at mine. ‘Occhio’ and ‘The Lady of Derbishire’ went home, the rest of us did the fifteen minute trek up to the East Village. Once there, I texted ‘Nickle’ to see his ETA. He called me back right away and said he wasn’t feeling like meeting me and he was in a strange mood. I spent about ten minutes carefully trying to see if I should convince him to come out or not. I wanted to see him, I’ve been in his situation, I wasn’t sure what he wanted me to do. I insisted he join us and he did. He showed up a bit drunk and emotional. We had a chat about us and about how he feels like he’s loosing himself. About how he’s scared of where he’s going. All familiar subjects for both of us. Having reached compromise, he went home (or so I thought, apparently he had a few more rounds at Nowhere) and I went to “The Church” with ‘Jose Maria’ to meet up with ‘Geordie-Mo’.

It was nice to be back. I hadn’t been to my old stomping grounds in a while now and I was happy to say hi to the Wednesday night gays. The highlight of the evening, tho, was seeing ‘Geordie-Mo’, who’d just been through a break up and had planned a New York trip to get away from all the things that come when you end a relationship.

That night, I drank more than expected. I got back to my handsome asleep on my full size bed. I kissed him goodnight and dozed off next to him.

Thursday morning was a brand new day. I had told work I was coming in late because “I was going to wait for my friend to get back from the airport” but really I didn’t want to deal with the post-event clean up. ‘Nickle’ went to work, and I went to brunch at The Crosby with ‘Geordie-Mo’ and ‘Jose Maria’. Since I was now allowed to drink again, I ordered a bloody mary to go with my fall vegetable soup. We all started drinking. David Gahan from Depeche Mode sat on the table next to us. We ordered more drinks. I concluded that since I wasn’t going to have much time to spend with my British friend, I should probably take the day off and hang out with him right then and there. I called work and said my friend’s flight was delayed.

We scheduled the rest of our day: The Daphne Guiness exhibit at FIT and more daytime drinking. We finished our meal and skedaddled down spring street to the ACE train and up to 23rd street. Prior to entering the museum, we had an impromptu photo shoot with the autumnal foliage on the streets of New York and acted stupid, but not too stupid. Even though I was glad to be out of work and having fun, I was still in business mode answering emails and phone calls.

The exhibit was everything that I expected from her and more. It didn’t hurt that it was free, but I would’ve payed a pretty penny to be a part of one of my favorite and most inspiring persons in the world’s experience. It was short, it was concise, and again, it was educational.

We left FIT and walked over to Madison Square Park to kill some time. We then walked to Boxers for happy hour but were shit out of luck as the place didn’t open for about another hour. We walked back east to GYM, downed a couple of unejoyably watered down beers, played some pornographic photo hunt, and left to go back to Boxers. This time the bar was open. We weren’t planning on drinking as much but, being early enough for happy hour, every place was two for one. Two Jack and Gingers ensued.

We left at around 7 pm to go back to my place and get some food from The Meatball Shop with ‘Nickle’, his friend, ‘Viquers’ and ‘Fixie’, before going to The Abbey for a nightcap. I wanted my friends to meet my friend with an accent. The bar was alright. To my knowledge, we all had a good time, and to my surprise, both ‘Jose Maria’ and ‘Fixie’ showed significant interest in ‘Geordie-Mo’. The surprise did not come from me questioning my dear Briton’s appeal, but from how funny I found their little crush to be. I believe we all left at a reasonable hour and went to our respective after hours. In my case, bed with the babe.

Friday I did show up to work, despite wanting to take another day off. It’s funny how much I used to love going to work, and ever since these new changes have happened I haven’t been as eager. Regardless, I did my full 7 hours exuding my best effort and with a grin on (I try not to smile much).

After work, I met ‘Nickle’ with two of his friends at Solas. We were supposed to meet for dinner but plans changed, as usual, so we had a couple of beers and a few rounds of shots and ended up having a slice instead. We then walked towards Ludlow in the Lower East Side for more drinks with another one of his bartender friends. I wasn’t complaining, I was actually having a really good time. My baby’s friends kept mentioning how changed he seems and how in love he seems to be with me. They pointed out they haven’t seen him like this in the 5+ years they’ve known him, and I started to feel like I was either extremely lucky, or in some sort of Truman Show. I took another shot and just went with it.

We left sometime between 9 and 10 to go back to ‘Nickle’s’ apartment and make a bag for our big weekend trip. He filled his green duffle bag with a few items of clothing (most of his favorite stuff is already permanently stored at my place), and we walked over to my apartment to drop off said bag. We then texted ‘Geordie-Mo’ who had been out and about with his 718 beau so we could confirm the plans we’d made to meet. Eleven-o-clock at Metropolitan.

On our way there, ‘Nickle’ had a severe craving for a cigarette that actually scared me in terms of whether or not I was going to be able to help him resist. Somehow we did, and instead we ended up at Yola’s Cafe for some unnecessary burrito, but I guess it’s better to be fat than cancerous. Again, he thanked me for standing my ground, and I felt reassured for doing so. Sometimes I fear he’s going to resent me one day.

We left the fast food joint and ran into ‘Geordie-Mo’ and company who were also running late. We all walked in to Metro and ordered more drinks. By this point I was so drunk that I stupidly forgot my mission at hand: 718 beau reconnaissance. We finished our beer and left the single boys to their own demise. We walked back home and cleverly thought to stop by The Abbey for the second night cap of the night.

A beer and a shot of whiskey and I was drunk and horny. We didn’t stay long. We had another round of beer and shots and shared a much watered down brew before heading home to sleep but not before having some a-bit-kinkier-than-average time, the details of which shall remain a secret, but do let your imagination run.

The past few days were emotional in a different level. It was the second time that I didn’t feel alone because ‘Nickle’ was actually having some readjusting issues. It is strange how vulnerability makes him sexy. Is it the change of power that excites us? I guess for the moment I am not able to tell… but I will say this: that night I felt closer to my babe than I had felt till that moment.

“I know it’s where you want to go this time, I see you where you are. Don’t fight, you’re about to figure out it’s fine.”

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01.11.2011

Stand By Me

“So what’s the matter with you? Sing me something new. Don’t you know the cold and wind and rain don’t know, they only seem to come and go away.”

My week started great. Last Monday, on my day off, I repeated last week’s pattern to a point and met ‘Mexican Paddington’ and ‘The Queen of the Dammed’ for lunch at the same Korean fast food joint we had met 6 days prior. This time, I was much more relaxed. I hadn’t had my usual anxiety episode with ‘Nickle’ and things were going great.We made plans to meet later that night for couple’s dinner.

After lunch, I walked over to Smythson of Bond Street on 56th and 6th to purchase a 472 dollar Kelly green leather bound notebook for ‘The Cock of the North’. As I’ve mentioned, he’s leaving the city to move back home for health reasons, and me and my coworkers decided to get him something special. I then walked back with ‘Mexican Paddington’ towards his office but first we made a pit stop at Barney’s. I spent a pretty penny on four pairs of socks and was surprised at how my spending habits have changed. I was questioning the price of good design, and could not manage to be as careless as I was before and spend $300 on a shirt. What’s going on with me!? I suppose it’s a good thing, and I think it all has to do with dating ‘Nickle’. He makes me look at things from different perspectives and come up with new convictions.

I left Barneys and took a train towards Chelsea to go look for stuff for my Halloween costume. I got off the A train at Madison Square Garden and decided to walk over to the free clinic and get my usual check up. I had no specific reason to do so other than I wanted to eliminate the window period since last time I got tested so I could be as clean as a whistle for my man. Again, he makes me want to be a better person.

After reading about 30 pages of the book he’d lent me a few months ago, I got my results. Clean as a whistle indeed. I texted him a picture of my bandaged finger and told him the obvious news. I left the clinic and walked to some costume shops on 23rd street and scored more pieces for my ensemble.

Having a few hours to kill, I stopped by the movie theatre near Union Square to watch 50/50. It had been a while since the last time I had been to the movies by myself, and I’d forgotten how good it makes me feel. It is empowering. The movie, despite being great, was unbelievably depressing in so many levels. From the story itself to the production, I found myself getting sadder and sadder. It also made me think a lot about my babe because one drunken night I’d ask him how he felt about terminal diseases and he didn’t take it well. I, of course, do not want that for either of us, but I did think that no matter what, I’m sticking around. After all, I’ve always ended up being a good nurse to those close to me.

I left the theatre and walked to the art store to purchase more accessories for the weekend festivities. I ran into a couple of friends who coincidentally were going to join us for dinner, and told them I’d catch up with them later. As scheduled earlier that day, I met my papa at Urge for a couple of drinks before walking over to Peels.

Dinner was weird. It was really fun to hang out with everyone in different circumstances, last time ‘Nickle’ had met this group of friends it wasn’t the best, and I wanted to change that impression. The food, however, was horrible, and the service was even worse. After staying there long enough to close the place, we all decided never again. It was expensive, and other than the company, it was not something I’d ever want to repeat. The lesbians, ‘Mexican Paddington’ and ‘The Queen of the Dammed’, went home to have lesbian time. The boyfriend and I took the rest of the group to Swift for a few more drinks. We didn’t stay much longer. We had a few cigarettes and a few nice talks and left for my place. Bed ensued promptly.

Tuesday, having neglected my house guest the whole time she was here, I started my second day off by having brunch at Five Leaves with ‘Titi’ and then continued to look for the final touches of my last costume. Sadly, thrift store shopping proved futile and managed to disappoint me yet again. Instead, I put my college degree to use and went to the garment district, purchased three yards of tacky stretchy sequined fabric in different colors, and went home to make my outfit. For the parade I’m going to be one of 6 or 7 Richard Simmons hybrids (I’m thinking black face).

Later that evening, I had plans for dinner and a show with the babe. I sewed till the last minute and left my apartment around 7 pm. I met ‘Nickle’ and his friend in Union Square and we walked to Rai Rai Ken for some noodle yumminess. We then walked to Webster Hall, but realizing the show wouldn’t start for another hour, we continued walking to Phoenix for a pre-gig drink. A couple, literally, of ‘Nickle’s’ friends met us there and the night really began.

As mentioned, we had a show to catch so we only stayed for a bit. Then we returned to the venue for the performance. It was fun and funny both at the same time, and the thing I appreciated the most is that my love took the time to plan it out.

Wanting an unnecessary nightcap after the show, we marched to nowhere where we did just that. Have a nightcap. His friends left and we headed to Brooklyn. Another pit stop at The Abbey, another brief anxiety attack, and then we passed out.

Wednesday morning I woke up a bit hung over and spent from the attack. I went to work and had lunch with ‘Titi’ who was leaving later in the evening. My day was going really good, actually, despite my psychological issues, and for some reason shit just kept happening left and right. For instance, I found out that ‘Fixie’s’ man was breaking up with him (again!!), but had forewarned him via email. The man scheduled the break up! Also, ‘Jose Maria’ informed me he might have to move back to Greece in January because he hasn’t been able to find a job. A part of me wants to slap him! I am aware it’s hard, but not impossible, and to be frank, I think he’s just not really trying hard enough. Last but not least, it finally dawned on me that ‘The Cock of the North’ is leaving, and I’m having a slight problem readjusting to my new boss and the work ambiance.

That night I had plans with ‘Fixie’ to get wasted and blur the shit day he was having. ‘Nickle’ had said that he really wanted to see me, even if just for a bit, because he was feeling really good about us. Without a doubt I obliged. Like I mentioned, I was having a good day and I wanted to make it even better. He picked me up at the gallery and we walked to Solas for a few rounds. I hadn’t eaten, so I also ordered delivery whilst at the bar. ‘Fixie’ was going to call me when he was done with his ex and on his way to me. Surprisingly enough, he called me about half hour before expected and I rushed to meet him without any time to eat my freshly delivered food. I had invited ‘Nickle’ but he wanted me to have one on one with my friend, so he said he’d meet later.

We met outside my place to drop off our stuff and headed to The Abbey. We followed the plan we’d deviced and started drinking more and more, shots and beers, at a steady and constant pace. My babe met us after going home for a second and taking care of some personal business. When he got there I was clearly intoxicated. My head started fucking with me and I started having anxiety. What can I say? I really don’t know what to say… wish I knew how to change it (other than the obvious “don’t drink”).

For this instance, my anxiety revolved around being with my boyfriend and one of my best friends, two people who I love, and two people who I feel are way more relationship material than I am. I stupidly started convincing myself that it makes much more sense for ‘Nickle’ to be with someone like ‘Fixie’ who is more sane and can handle relationships better than I can… and it all went downhill from there. We eventually left and, in the confines of my apartment, I made my anxiety attack more public. Again, my babe calmed me down. Again, I felt stupid and feared that he one day will get sick of me. Again, I more and more firmly believe part of the anxiety has to do with a chemical imbalance. Again, I’m confused.

Thursday morning I woke up feeling a bit better. The night had passed, the anxiety was subdued, and after my almost-daily sexy time with my hon, I went to work. Again, he surprised me with plans for a play at BAM that night. He picked me up and, in the midst of a rainy day, we headed to Brooklyn. I was really tired and, although the play was lively and entertaining, I snoozed off a few times. Nevertheless, I was feeling better. I like having dates like this with my boy, dates where all we do is hang out just the two of us and do dinner and a movie, or some other cliche chain of events.

On that note, after the play we walked over to a cute little French restaurant a few blocks away and had a quaint little dinner. Escargot, beet salad, and fish, I believe. I wasn’t in a big plan of drinking because it’s been too tiring and taxing on my anxiety, and I want to keep it under control so that it doesn’t interfere with me and my babe but… I’m an alcoholic, and I’m also in a relationship that was about to turn a month old, so of course drinks ensued. First, we went to a bar a couple of blocks away, then I believe we went home, but we might’ve stopped by The Abbey. I wasn’t drunk, I just can’t remember.

Friday I had a relatively early day. I had to meet with ‘The Lady of Derbyshire’ for more filming of the Marfa documentary I’ve been helping her make. This time we interviewed the women in charge of Art Production Fund who sponsored the project. It was, as has the rest of the project been, a unique experience. Both girls were such characters. Their outfits, stark black and designer clad from head to toes, along with their strikingly straight hair, was a nice contrast to their welcoming personality. They were both superbly nice, and completely helpful and enthusiastic about the project, which was surprising considering it’s hard to come across people like that in the art world.

The interview ended at around noon. I called ‘Nickle’ since I was close to his work and met hit at his office where he introduced me to all his coworkers who, as expected, loves him and has heard wonders of me. I’m still not tired of this. We were going to grab lunch, but we didn’t due to lack of time. Instead he drove me to work.

The day went by ridiculously fast. That night, we had plans to meet at the office for some farewell cocktails for ‘The Cock of the North’. Not everyone who should’ve showed up did, but a couple who weren’t necessarily supposed come to came, and it all turned out nice. ‘Nickle’ met up at some point, because he wanted to say a proper goodbye to my boss. They’ve really hit it off right away, and it’s a shame we didn’t get to have more time to hang out ensemble.

I got a bit emotional. I drank myself stupid and reminisced on the days a year ago when I first started working here… Oh how I’ve grown with them.

One by one we all started leaving. I was given the task of making sure everyone left at an appropriate time. Despite being wasted, I believe I did a good job and, at around 11 pm, we were out and on our separate ways. Me and ‘Nickle’ went to The Abbey for a nightcap and then home. Just like a depressingly melancholic feature film, I was the last one to go. I shut the lights off, set off the alarm, and walked our the side door. Me and ‘Nickle’ went to The Abbey for a nightcap and then home.

As with most of my time in this earth, this week proved to be a series of ups and downs, but somehow none of it surprises me anymore. I’ve come to terms with the good and the bad in my daily routines. Yes, anxiety is a big part of my life, and a part that I’ve been dealing with on my own. The scary issue now is opening up and dealing with it with someone who wants to be there for me through the good and the bad. I just need to convince myself that there’s people out there who feel just like me.

“Stand by me, nobody knows the way it’s gonna be.”

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10.09.2011

Right as Rain

“Who wants to be right as rain it’s better when something is wrong. You get excitement in your bones and everything you do is a game. When night comes and your on your own you can say i chose to be alone. Who wants to be right as rain it’s harder when you’re on top.”

Tuesday night I had a date with ‘Nickle’. We decided to meet at Fatty Crab because it’s one of my  favorite restaurants, he’s never been, and it’s such an atypical date spot (very messy, hands-on, stinky southeast Asian cuisine) that I’d been wanting to take someone there. I’d been getting in date mode lately so after a good session of bikram, I showered, dressed up trendy, yet classic with a denim shirt, caramel leather belt, black skinny jeans, and chucks (yes, that’s me actually meticulously dressing up for a purpose), and smoked a cigarette as I waited for him to pick me up at 9pm outside my apartment.

Upon his arrival I noticed he too had taken the time to dig out the cologne from the back of the bathroom cabinet and iron his shirt, which he paired with some fitting blue jeans, and some purposely scuffed brown leather boots. He greeted me with a kiss and stated “I didn’t bring you flowers but I brought you…” as he handed me a bouquet of my personal favorite sour candy. He was aware I preferred sour over any other type of sweets, but not that this specific kind were my Kryptonite. I promptly digitally documented his deed and uploaded it to facebook. We took a train to the meatpacking.

The meal was very pleasant to say the least. The food? delicious, the conversation? effortless, the man? an absolute gentleman. He kept yearningly admiring me with such an honest stare that I felt both marveled at and respectfully undressed. Upon the end of dinner, the cavalier refused to take my card and paid for the more-expensive-than-average check. If I had known, I wouldn’t have ordered that second cocktail. I took this opportunity to suggest we grab a drink after since I felt somewhat in debt. He obliged.

I took my paramour a couple blocks away to Le Bain. To his expected unimpressed eyes, I had us breeze through the crowd and skip the line. Despite admitting to have wondered about it after watching the structure being erect over the highline, he’d never been to the rooftop before. It was the perfect continuation to an ideally perfect evening. We consumed a few libations, discussed New York architecture, and introduced him to a few familiar faces who later jealously congratulated me for my envious catch. We left after two drinks and took the train home. The plan was for the evening to come to a close but we spontaneously decided to get off at 1st ave and walk to Phoenix for the alleged last night it was to be open before its new Lesbian owner turned it into a lezzy irish pub (so the rumor says).

We didn’t stay long either. A drink later we were back on the street walking towards the subway. As a rule of thumb, I try and avoid the trains after 11:30 pm because they can take long enough for my usually inebriated patience to sit and wait. Luckily, that was not the case. We got off at our Brooklyn stop and walked past the bar we usually go to. We ran into a couple of his friends and decided to join for last last call. The boy and the girl aforementioned both took me aside separately and questioned my intentions with their friend. They stated the obvious: he’s a nice guy, he really likes me, they haven’t seen him this happy about someone in a while. I responded in agreement to everything they said: he’s a nice guy and I do enjoy the time we’ve spent together. After a couple more drunken interrogations from his keepers me and ‘Nickle’ parted ways. I had to work. He had to wake up in a couple hours and drive upstate.

Wednesday morning I woke up excited for work. It was the first time in a month that my boss, ‘The Cock of the North’, was back from vacation and I was excited to see him again. The man is more of a friend than an employer. Work went by relatively fast. I went home, did my usual 30 minute post-work duties and headed back to the city for dinner with friends at Buvette in the West Village. Despite all of us being utterly late, we enjoyed the evening. I often fail to notice, but I am pleasantly surprised how I am often the common denominator in these gatherings. All the people there know each other and casually hang out, but originally they met through me.

After dinner I left them and went to my Wednesday midnight mass. The night was methodical: same faces, same routines, same ending. I do not mind it, in fact, it’s part of the reason why I’ve made it part of my weekly schedule.

I ended up at The Cock with DJ & co. and later DJ & I ended up leaving together. Again, somewhat methodical: no sex, no fooling around, just plain cuddling. We did have a very interesting conversation about “out relationship” as he put it. Turns out, we’re both on the same page. I mentioned my date with ‘Nickle’ from the night before and running into ‘Handsome Wednesday’, he mentioned a similar instance with a hurricane Irene date. We teased each other and uttered the word ‘Paranoid’ to one another and went to bed.

Thursday morning I hurried home, took a shower, gossiped a bit with ‘Freckles’ (who’d been staying at my place) about my night with DJ and went to work. The usual.

My plans for the night were reserved for ‘Freckles’. We did yoga together for the first time, took showers, ate some food I made, and met up with ‘John G’ for some cocktails at Metro. I spent most of my evening impolitely talking to friends I ran into, but at the same time, my two add-ons were chatting with each other so I didn’t feel that rude. A long ago hook up, ‘Big Clay’, was there sans boyfriend. We talked for a while as I watched him getting progressively more incoherent. He’s known to be a bit of a lush and a big time drinker. ‘John G’ went home, me, ‘Freckles’, and ‘Big Clay’ left for Union Pool as I had promised her I’d take her somewhere straight so she could forget about her recent fall out with her beau. We ordered more drinks which only aided in making ‘Big Clay’ pretend to be bi for the rest of the night. He continuously kept hitting on ‘Freckles’ and then on me. I have to admit that although I am not attracted to ‘Big Clay’, there is still that feeling of “the one that got away” every time I see him. I know it’s pointless and I don’t encourage it but, for some reason back when I was younger, I really liked him. Maybe it is the fact that I was young and less jaded and fell for anything that would give me head. We decided to call it a night and walk home.

My “been partying for a few years now” self is not as patient as it used to be so despite the fact that I noticed ‘Big Clay’ stumbling his way home I was determined to go to sleep. Being an alcoholic myself I am quite confident in others’ ability to find their way back; ‘Freckles’, on the other hand, didn’t seem as certain and, after watching him ring on two doorbells right next to the bar and squint to try and make up if either of these was his apartment, suggested we take him home. I unwillingly obliged so we hailed a cab and dropped him at the corner of his block. Again, she didn’t believe he could make it so she got out of the cab and walked him home. I am aware of the dangers that come with leaving completely plastered people out to fend for themselves, but sometimes they need it. I finally caught some Z’s well past 4am.

Friday work. Still not being used to people paying for me whilst on a date, I had told ‘Nickle’ I’d take him out tonight my treat. The plan was to end at Momofuku, but he first suggested I meet him at a bar near Astor Place where his friend was working. While I do enjoy all the perks that have come with this new found relationship, I’m beginning to think that he might be a bit too much of a drinker, which would not be a problem, except I am too. And while this is all fun and he’s by no means an aggressive drunk, he sometimes is a bit sloppy. Regardless, I was thirsty and I did as instructed. Anxiety. Four or six drink/shots later, we left his friends and walked to the restaurant. No luck, it was packed. He suggested we walk to a noodle house he said he’d been to before instead and we ended up twirling and twisting ropes of doughy goodness on our chopsticks and into our bellies. Whether he had planned for this or not I am not sure, but my time to pay for dinner ended up being significantly cheaper than his, which I wasn’t too happy about.

We went for a nightcap at Phoenix then, strangely enough, to Ten Degrees. Anxiety. We tried taking the train but it was out of service so we hopped on a yellow cab back to my place. Apparently, I passed out of his lap on the way home. I also lost my phone, which I didn’t realize at the moment, but did so the next morning. We fooled around in my living room not caring that ‘Freckles’ might be coming back from her date any time. I switched to this recent Machiavellian mood that I’ve been having and proceeded to indulge in the idolization I was receiving. After I had my fix, I suggested we go to bed and sleep, and did so almost immediately but not before we fooled around a bit more. I am not certain for how long, but I do remember hearing ‘Freckles’ come home.

The next morning we finished what we had started. I enjoy the fact that this man has a very sexual appetite in the mornings because I usually do too. He started fondling my genitals till I finally woke up from my half asleep state and reciprocated. I came first, he followed. He’s noticeably loud when he does. I giggled at the thought of ‘Freckles’ hearing us not because I mind, but because she might find it funny. We walked our naked asses to the shower and washed away the gunk that covered our abdomens. We all had brunch at a spot a couple blocks away. Right after, he went his own way, and I started my long list of tasks before I left for California later that night.

I’m enjoying these two “relationships” that have sprung up on me. I am treading carefully. I am taking everything and everyone with a grain of salt. I am not letting myself get carried away by the same dumb emotions many seek and let themselves be blinded by. I am proving to myself and others two things: that while LOVE might actually exist, it is harder to find than we’d like to admit, and most of us never truly do find it, so why bother? And also that this whole idea of having to end up with someone in order to have an accomplished life is ridiculously outdated. I refuse to give in.

“Who wants to be riding high when you’ll just crumble back on down. You give up everything you are and even then you don’t get far. They make believe that everything is exactly what it seems, but at least when you’re at your worst you know how to feel things.”

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30.08.2011

Seventeen

“They only want you when you’re seventeen…”

So our dear Irene (the hurricane) ended up being all talk and no action (at least in Williamsburg). As you are all aware, according to Bloomberg et. all, we were expecting a natural disaster in the likes of the second coming of Christ this past weekend. Instead, we got a mild tropical storm that left us stranded, because of complete MTA shutdown, with our apartments chock full of unused non-perishable items, and, if you’re anything like me, enough alcohol and cigarettes to start our own after hours speak easy. Never the less, I had a fun, crazy weekend.

It started Friday night. After work, despite being a bit worried that I hadn’t prepared at all for the upcoming natural catastrophe, I had plans to go to a BBQ in the Upper West Side with ‘Nickle’ and his friends. I’m usually not a big of a fan of BBQ’s because of my dietary restrictions. I always find it difficult to eat because, even if I get vegetarian options, the grills are usually lacquered with animal fat and I get really grossed out. That night tho, I decided I’d just let the cook do the cooking and look the other way.

He came to my job with a coworker and we walked to the Spring A train to go uptown to 86th street for the little soiree. We purchased some red and some white and a bottle of coke (per my suggestion) to make some kalimotxos, that’s basque for red wine and coca cola. I managed to find some veggie patties to grill and we went up to ‘Nickle’s’ friend’s rooftop. Everybody I met was in their thirties. Some of them were really nice, others it took a second to warm up to, but all in all they were pretty welcoming. They seemed like a very tight knight group. ‘Nickle’ kept asking if I was alright. I was. I am very good at making good first impressions and at socializing with people from all walks of life. Within minutes I had them inviting me to future road trips, rooftop parties, and birthdays. Nothing about the BBQ really stood out, other than the views. The party was fun, but around 10ish I told ‘Nickle’ I was going to leave. He decided to come with.

The plan was to take a cab back to my place so I could feed my dog and then head to a bar nearby. We were both very drunk. When we got to my apartment we decided to stay in and sleep. Some time around 5 in the morning we woke up and fooled around. Although I did give him head, I was a bit paranoid about the whole thing. I have no idea what goes in my head, but there’s very little I can do about it. God knows I try. This time we both came. He was aiming for my penis as I was about to ejaculate when I stopped him. Like I’ve said before, I don’t feel comfortable with others swallowing my load because, although I know I’m clean, it just makes me think that they are comfortable swallowing other people’s that might not be. Furthermore, I wouldn’t return the favor and I don’t like doing things I wouldn’t do too. I passed out with the thought of getting up early and preparing for our friend Irene’s arrival.

I woke up around 9 and so did he. We laid in bed for a bit cuddling. I really enjoy doing so with him, except the damn hurricane was all I could think about. We got up, got dressed, got vitamin water, and got out of my apartment. He asked me if I wanted him to come endure the storm with me later. I said sure.

I hurried to the grocery store list in hand hoping to still find supplies for the next few days. On my list: dog food, beer, wine, cigarettes, coconut water, vitamin water, bread, tuna, peanut butter, a hand can opener, cash, paper plates, and water, in that order. That shows my priorities. I managed to get most of the things and get home safe in time for the rain to start. I wasn’t sure how to feel or what to expect. I certainly have never been through a hurricane (ok El Niño back in the 90’s, but I was too young to realize the magnitude of the situation), and after the unexpected earthquake (which turned out to be nothing), I was sure anything could happen.

I wasted most of the day making funny “Irene” jokes on Facebook, planning hurricane parties, and watching Mad Men. At around 5pm, ‘Latin T’ messaged me to come join him and his really nice friend (who I really like) for a drink. Realizing that the damn hurricane was nowhere to be seen I biked over to his place. It was a different change of pace. I didn’t feel like I was meeting him for any specific agenda. It was more like meeting a friend, and I like that because that’s where I want this to go. He seems lonely, and I’m a sucked for stray dogs.

We had a couple of beers at his apartment and then headed to Union Pool. I didn’t stay long. I was feeling a bit like a third friend wheel. I left and texted ‘Nickle’.

After a very wet and windy bike ride (Irene was finally approaching), I met him at The Abbey and had a few more drinks with him. We were hanging out with his friends and some really annoying Caribbean Hispanics of dubious sexual preference I wanted to assassinate. One of them asked me for a twenty (money), the other one unbuttoned his shirt and was getting aggressive. I’m not sure which was worse. I was supposed to meet ‘Fixie’ but he’s been somewhat flakey lately so I just decided to have fun with ‘Nickle’ and let him be him. Me, ‘Nickle’, his amazing Irish friend, and the man she picked up left the bar and went back to my place for more drinks. We hung out for a beer’s time and she left with her beau du jour. ‘Fixie’ texted me and ended up coming over. We watched True Blood and had more beers. ‘Nickle’ was wasted and I kind of wanted to have a chit chat with ‘Fixie’ so I send him to bed and stayed up for a bit longer. I passed out on the couch but woke up at around 7am to ‘Fixie’ watching documentaries and Irene in full storm (literally). My windows were leaking. I was too drunk to care so I tucked ‘Fixie’ on the futon and went to bed.

At some point in the morning ‘Nickle’ tried to fool around with me. I was still drunk and too tired so I played possum. I am not sure what it is about him or how I feel towards the man. Sometimes I really like him, sometimes I’m slightly turned off, sometimes I just don’t know. We woke up at around 11 in the morning to no signs of the damn hurricane. With mild winds and barely any rain outside yet gorgeous cumulonimbus clouds, we decided to grab some brunch. ‘Fixie’ went in search of some tail, we met ‘Nickle’s’ friend a block away and walked to Five Leaves, which was closed, then to Enid’s, which was a giant mess, and back to Walter Foods on Grand St, which was also not happening. We ended up at a local sports bar asking for a hurricane (the drink, not Irene), but we got slightly laughed at so we settled for a beer. We then crossed the street to go to Lodge for some food. After a 45 minute wait I was gobbling up a vegan BLT and my second bloody mary.

With our stomachs somewhat satisfied, we continued our search for Hurricane Booze. We ended up at Metro where we finally were granted the privilege to savor the fruity (both literally and figuratively) drink. Just like Irene, it was anticlimactic. We reverted to beers. A couple of drinks later we left and went to Macri Park (the bar, not the actual green triangle) where we had yet more brewskis and a shot of whiskey. It was almost time for True Blood and I was planning my escape when friends of ‘Nickle’ suggested we join them at a Greek bar a block away where they were playing the show. We joined.

Sometime mid episode, I started receiving texts from the cute boy (‘Young Seth’) I had met last Wednesday who I let go because I spent the night with DJ. ‘Young Seth’ was at Metro. My inner drunk, greedy slut lied (yes! you heard me right!!!) and said I was going home. Instead, I walked around the block and back to Metro I went. I had a couple of drinks with ‘Young Seth’ and left. He invited himself over but changed his mind because he was going to wait for his Australian friend. I walked home a bit more drunk enough to not feel ashamed of my actions.

** Not to make excuses here but, this is not typical behavior for me, nor do I condone it, yet I don’t feel too bad about it. I think it’s because, really, other than, yes, lying, which is never good under any circumstance, I’m not doing anything terrible here. I’m single, I haven’t set labels or anything with any of these men, and I am free to do as I please. Chances are, some, if not all of them, are doing the same thing. It’s New York, we are young, we are gay. Simple algebra would explain this mathematical equation. Furthermore, I’m honest about it. I’ve told them I’m going on other dates and, if questioned further, I will gladly go into details. I have nothing to hide. **

I was planning on calling it a night and watching TV when ‘Occhio’ texted me saying he was back at Metro. I put back my clothes on and out the door I went for the third time that day. Yes, I have no shame. I hung out with ‘Occhio’, his female friend, and his gay coworkers. ‘Young Seth’ was still there. I divided my time between both posses and proceeded to make out with the latter. As if two boys weren’t enough, I got a text from ‘Fixie’ asking if I wanted to hang out and rewatch True Blood. Naturally, my answer was “yes”. ‘Young Seth’ pointed out the fact that I was texting ‘Fixie’. Did I miss the memo here? Since when is it a crime to text friends when out with other friends (because, really, that’s all I could call ‘Young Seth’ at this point). I didn’t acknowledge his stupid inquiry, and changed the topic. He left shortly after saying that he’d love to come over but he didn’t think it was such a good idea. Again, when was it part of the deal that he’d come spend the night? Besides, we had a date the next night.

I went back to ‘Occhio’ and co. They were talking to some local straight dude and his gay Chi town friend visiting. The Chicagoan was not my type by any means. He kind of reminded me of Jeremy Renner. However, there was something attractive about him. I think it was his very masculine demeanor. After a bit of chatting, he blatantly asked me if I wanted to go back to my place and play. I was a bit tempted because of my drunkness, but I told him I had a friend coming over and Bro’s come before Ho’s. He didn’t understand at first but, eventually, after I kissed him (don’t judge), and gave him my number (out of drunken pity), he left defeated. ‘Occhio’ asked me if he could spend the night, which was fine. I went home, ‘Occhio’ walked his lady friend to her place, and said he’d meet me later.

‘Fixie’ was waiting outside my place. We went upstairs and drank more beer and watched more True Blood. He mentioned he’d seen ‘Nickle’ at the corner store. I assumed he was at our local bar, so I went downstairs to the deli for some food, and walked over to said bar while I was waiting. He was there smoking outside with some friends. I said hi, invited them all over, and went back to pick up the sandwiches I’d purchased. ‘Occhio’ arrived at my place. We finished watching TV and me and a naked ‘Fixie’ went to bed. Thankfully, ‘Nickle’ never came.

Monday, all my guests left to their respective workplaces. I dilly dallied a bit, cleaned my apartment, went to yoga, and met ‘Young Seth’ for our “date”. We started at a local Thai place I’d never been to. The beginning of the date was almost a great as the food. This one seems very sweet and young, yet a bit innocent. Almost a bit too innocent for a jaded guy like me. All I kept singing in my head is Taio Cruz’s catchy “Break Your Heart”.

We left the restaurant and discussed where to grab our next drink. We nixed Metro for fear of running into other people we might know and settled on Phoenix because it was the second to last night till the place regretfully closes. Before heading over, we made a pit stop at my place so I could change into a more weather appropriate shirt. The summer has almost abandoned New York.

We had a couple of beers at mine, and watched the A-List. I could tell he would’ve been fine with staying there and fooling around, but I wasn’t sure where I wanted to go with him (yes, I have a conscience and I’ll kiss a thousand boys, but I try not to sleep with many, especially simultaneously), not was I nearly sufficiently drunk to not care, so we left for the East Village.

Phoenix was nice. Luckily, or unluckily, depending on how you want to look at it, since the bar was closing all drinks were two for one. We started with ginger (whiskey for me, vodka for him) cocktails. The ethanol was working its magic on us and eventually we started kissing. I do fancy this one, he seems sweet, nice, cute, and a potential good relationship. However, like I said before, I don’t think I want that. I am not there right now and I will probably just “break his heart”. I said hi to a few familiar faces. I could tell the whole time he was wondering what I meant by “friends” and “I know him”. All I can say is he needs to change his outlook because I was once there and it does nothing but make you go crazy to think that way, ESPECIALLY in this city. For the record, one I fooled around with months ago, the other I was meaning to fool around with but never happened and now we’re just friends, the last I’ve never felt any desires to do so.

We left after about four drinks. I was feeling a bit “in the mood” and asked him if he was coming over. He said he had to get up quite early but was thinking about it. I clarified there’d be no actual sex. He gave in.

The night was good. The boy is handsome and has a nice body. No, he is not ripped but, to me, a nice body means someone who obviously cares about their physique, yet doesn’t obsess over it, and is not going to be staring at the mirror the whole time we’re fucking. We fooled around for a long time. He gives good head, and even better anilingus. The thing about young boys is that they’re so willing to please their older counterparts. Sometimes I take advantage of this. I was quite tired and drunk so I suggested we finish off. With a tongue up my ass and my hand on my cock I did so at the same time he did. I passed out almost immediately.

I woke up a couple hours later to him getting up. I went to the bathroom to wipe my own dried up genetic material off my chest, and asked him if he was alright. He seemed a bit frantic and said he was leaving because he was afraid he wouldn’t wake up in time for whatever it was he needed to do that morning. I was a bit annoyed because I thought that was typical young guy behavior. They lack etrickquette. I smoked a cigarette, watched from my window as he walked to the train, and went to bed.

This morning I woke up and nixed yoga. I was a bit too hung over. I took my dog to the vet for a travel certificate, went for a mani and a pedi, and came back home to write and work a bit. I was texting with him for a bit. He apologized and asked what my schedule was like for the next week. I assume he wants to see me again. I also talked to ‘Nickle’. I have a date with him tonight. What can I say? A few of my older European friends have always told me I am an attractive, young, fun, and somewhat successful guy, and I should take advantage of that while I can. I find it hard to disagree.

If Helen Marnie’s words are true, I should enjoy it because I won’t be able to later… “when you’re twenty-one, you’re no fun”.

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24.08.2011

Where I’m going…

“Take my hand if you know where I’m going through, take my hand if you know where I’m going”. The blog keeps taking better form as the days go by. Today I will, as usual, talk about the past few days which have, just like the blog, been taking better form.

Sunday I started to work all by my lonesome self. The day was going slow until my good ol’ friend ‘Occhio’ showed up with sour candy (a personal addiction of mine). He very often visits which is why I’ve given myself the liberty to bestow upon him the title of “Unofficial Honorary Intern”. There wasn’t much to be accomplished that day so we just hung out, skyped with ‘Jose Maria’, and caught up. I haven’t been hanging out with him as much as I used to.

After work I went home and he went to hang out with his other friends. I didn’t have many plans for the night ahead other than watching True Blood, but an acquaintance of mine (‘Jay & F) who I had sex with a while back texted me saying it was his last night in town and he was going to Gansevoort. I told him I’d meet him there. I texted a couple of friends and hopped on the L towards the meatpacking. The party was not very happening. The boys were not my taste. My mood wasn’t exactly the best.

I ordered a drink and searched for ‘Jay & F’. He didn’t seem as friendly as I had expected, maybe he had that bit of post coitum awkwardness still lingering around. To be honest, I didn’t think much of the time we had sex. We were drunk and that was it, I’m not really into him nor was I at the time, but maybe for him it was different. He IS a bit younger, and he acts more like your average gay. I pretended not to notice and proceeded to talk to him and introduce myself to his friends, all Chelsea boys. They were all a bit stand offish. I suppose that is the case when they meet a fag who doesn’t share their aesthetic beliefs of “perfect” ripped bodies, and thorough manscaping. One of his friends, an Asian gay of deceiving age who happened to work with ‘John G’, kept hitting on me and touching my lips over and over saying they were amazing. I acted evasively coy.

I texted ‘ John G’ to see if he was coming. He said he was on his way and would arrive in half hour. We all ordered more drinks, I smoked (none of them did), and we talked more about what we did and where we lived. Again, God forbid the socialize with anyone living east of Union Square, north of 59th, and south of the numbered streets. They all finished their drinks and left. I smoked another cigarette and waited for my friend.

Lately, I’ve been enjoying more and more ‘John G’s’ new outlook on life. He used to be way more negative and antisocial. I attribute most of his recent change to his new job. I think he was miserable in previous work environments. We talked about Grindr, and how he’s now on it and enjoying the good and the bad that comes from it. I reassured him that, as long as he’s smart about it, it’s a fun way to meet guys whether they end up being friends, fucks, or life partners. One last drink and we were out. He wanted to go to Cielo and, although I was a bit skeptical due to my first bad impression of the place (see previous post about my crazy night at ACE hotel), I agreed. I’m all about not letting bad experiences leave me with sour tastes.

Cielo was stupid. We paid a five dollar cover and it was somewhat empty. We ordered a drink and danced for a bit. I was somewhat drunk. I spotted a cute boy who I decided I’d talk to. He turned out to be German, what do you know? He wasn’t interested. I was a tiny bit. I didn’t want to drink more and was looking forward to my bed so I suggested we have a last drink and go home (my way of saying: “hey, I’m bored, but I’m wasted so let’s grab one before we hit the road”, usually this goes way better than being: “let’s leave”). I chugged the diluted concoction and headed for the door.

On our way to the train we thought of the magnificent idea of getting some taco bell to reminisce our Southern California days (that’s where we met). We walked all the way to Union Square but it was closed. I guess we forgot we weren’t actually in California. He asked if I wanted to go to another bar, but I politely declined and hopped on the train back to apartment. Time to cuddle with the pup.

Monday I did nothing for most of the day. I relaxed and had a chain smoking, pup cuddling, Mad Men marathon. I made some delicious pasta with fake meat sauce and mozzarella sticks. I texted a bit with DJ and mentioned I might be going out in his neighborhood later that night. I took a nap and woke up around 7. In a moment of pure drive, I decided to start doing yoga again. I got in my skimpy dolphin shorts, flip flops, and tee, swung my mat across my shoulder, and walked to my old studio. Note to self: DO NOT EVER stop doing yoga on a regular basis. I almost died. It was not unbelievably hot or anything in particular, but I suppose I was really out of shape. For the first time ever, I felt dizzy, had tunnel vision, and took a break between poses. Somehow I survived and rushed home to watch the A-List.

A friend of mine who bartends at Phoenix had suggested I stop by because the bar is closing soon and I haven’t seen him in a while. I skipped the A-List, showered, and headed to the East Village. The bar was kind of empty but nice. I ordered a drink, he gave me a shot and a beer. I ordered another drink, he gave me another beer and another shot. I was pretty drunk. I met some familiar faces and some short guy, ‘Claude’, who looked very much like my friend’s ex (except my friend’s ex is straight and lives in LA). We started talking and he asked me if I wanted to go with him to Eastern Bloc. I hadn’t talked to DJ, and I didn’t really feel like going there with someone else because I know a lot of the people there and I just wasn’t comfortable, but I did. The place was also empty. Saw a couple of familiar faces, ordered a drink, and got another one for free. ‘Handsome Wednesday’ was there. Coincidentally, he was talking to DJ on grindr. For a split second I wondered if they’d fuck. Just for a split second.

‘Claude’ suggested we go to a karaoke place and have a bottle of champagne he would buy. I agreed. We walked back towards Phoenix and ended at some tacky place I always see and wonder who actually goes there. Now I know. He knew the bartender. He asked for the bottle of “champagne”, which actually turned out to be really cheap Prosecco. We had a glass and he sang a song. He had a nice voice. I am not quite sure when the night took a wrong turn but somehow I ended up outside smoking a cigarette being lectured on my rudeness. Apparently, without my knowing, I was being impolite for going on Grindr (which I did when I was at Eastern Bloc talking to Handsome Wednesday looking for friends), and he was not going to sleep with me. I honestly missed the memo that said I was on a date and that I was planning on sleeping with him. I wasn’t opposed to it, but that was definitely not my intention. I left and sent him a message on Grindr (yes, he was on it too!) saying: “honestly you got me so wrong”.

Tuesday morning my dog cuddling, chain smoking, Mad Men marathon continued. My productive day started a bit earlier tho. I went to yoga at 4:30 pm. It was not as bad as the day before. After sweating my sins out I went home, made food, and continued my morning activities. DJ texted me saying he was in Brooklyn with his best friend biking and asked what I was doing. I replied: “to be honest, I’m naked laying in bed, smoking a cigarette, and watching Mad Men”. I wasn’t trying to be flirty. He asked if I wanted to join them and then maybe grab some food. I said yes, threw some clothes on my stinky, salty body, and went downstairs with my bike.

The ride was nice. We rode all the way to the water on the Greenpoint side and then back to Williamsburg for some delicious Mexican food at Mesa Coyoacan. To say they loved the food is a understatement. DJ’s friend already went for more today (according to Facebook). We rode back to my place where they dropped me off. Me and DJ kissed for a long time. I told him I’d text him later if I was in the city because I had plans to meet with a girl I went to elementary with later that night. I took a shower and off to Le Bain I went.

The Standard was packed. It was a The Blonds party which, frankly, I could care less. I met my “friend” there, she looked like what I would expect her 12 year old self to look 14 years older except for her voice, which was terribly similar to the way Mexico City Preppies talk. I guess I shouldn’t be THAT surprised, she does come from money, but she’d fled the country way before I did, so I expected her to be significantly more whitewashed than I am. Despite us never having a close relationship, she seemed very happy to see me. She was there with her friend who was, in fact, a Mexico City Preppy. We promptly exchanged stories, where we’ve been, what we’ve done, where we’re going. It was a nice encounter. I remember back in elementary I used to think she was really cool. It was satisfying to see that now it was the opposite. I stayed with them for two drinks’ time. I texted DJ to see if he was still up. He was. I asked if I should come over, he said: “yes but we’re only cuddling”. I am not sure how I felt about this but it seemed a bit odd. Last time we spent the night together he wasn’t his usual ass eating self, and now he was saying this?! I mean, I don’t mind it at all because half the time I’d rather cuddle than fool around. Less anxiety the morning after, but still… my worse case scenario self made me think there was something more severe. It turned out he’s just had a tummy ache for the past few days. I bid my new friend goodbye, and cabbed it to his place.

Upon arrival, we got naked and did just that: cuddle. It was short and sweet. We tried watching some TV but surprisingly enough I was sleepy without being wasted. We slept naked waking up a few times to switch spoon positions. I slept for 10 whole hours. What the fuck? is all I have to say about the night. It was nice but very different in all aspects. I woke up, he offered to make me food (eggs), but since I don’t partake in eating chicken fetuses, I thanked him and declined. I got dressed and walked to work.

I’m having a cigarette right now. I just got home from yoga. I’m going to take a shower and bike to get some sushi, and then to my usual Wednesday spot. Will I go home with him again? Honestly, I don’t know. That would be two nights in a row, and is that really where we are? I’m not going to think about it too much. Tomorrow I’m meeting ‘Fixie’ at my work so we can bike back to Brooklyn together for some dinner, drinks, and whatever else.

“Take my hand ’cause I know what you’re going through… Half the time I had no way of knowing…”

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